The Personal Memories of Sr. Anna Bittner, DW

As we recently remembered those who lost their lives in the wars, it seems to be an excellent time to share the reflections of Sr. Anna Bittner, who, with her family, fled her country at a young age to escape the ravages of war. We will be sharing parts of her story a week at a time over the next few months.

Sr. Anna Bittner, DW, 82, Sr. John Therese of Montfort, entered into eternal life on August 14, 2019. She died peacefully at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Convent in Sound Beach, NY.

The Personal Memories of Sr. Anna Bittner, DW

Part 1

For several years, my family and friends have asked me to record my memories and experiences of World War 11. The most unforgettable years were 1946 and 1947 - years filled with terror, confusion, sadness, and loss.  Of course, times of war are always characterized by these feelings and experiences, and many times some that are much worse. I have made the years 1996 and 1997 Jubilee years. In Scripture, a year of Jubilee observed every 50 years is a year of restoration, reconciliation, atonement, and forgiveness. I don't know of any other person "celebrating" two consecutive years in this way. However, this has indeed been a time of healing for me, healing the pain of those horror-filled years. Truly a time of Grace.

I remember being very confused during the early 1940s. I was young and trying to understand the mess of the war. To give you a little background, my family is of German descent but had lived in Yugoslavia for three generations. Young Peter, age 18, had just been proclaimed King when Yugoslavia was invaded by Hitler's army. After King Peter fled to exile to the United States, the country began to splinter. The Croatian segment joined with Hitler calling themselves USTASA’s. A large number of the Serbian population, known as the Partisans, joined Tito's resistance force against Hitler. My mom was pro-Hitler –after all, we are German. My sister, Theresia, would come home from school with slogans and songs about Hitler which l too picked up. Then suddenly, we were not allowed to mention his name. Tanks filled the streets, cannons were set up in a field near our home, and soldiers would visit us from time to time. There were also low flying planes and bombings.

My dad had a wine cellar that we frequently used as a bomb shelter. We'd spend what seemed like endless hours down there, along with some people from our block. I remember people trying to devise a way to escape if the entrance should be bombed. Of course, there would not have been a way out. Thank God we were always miraculously protected.

One incident attests powerfully to that protection. Theresia had made bread, but in the confusion of falling bombs, she forgot to add the yeast. Since we couldn't afford to waste anything, the bread was baked - a sort or giant pita bread. Some kidney beans were put on the stove for soup. Not long after that, there was banging on the door with rifles. Dad told us to hide in the attic. He let the soldiers in who were looking for women and children. They started storming through the house, not believing that he was alone, as he claimed to be. Dad cleverly led them to the kitchen and invited them to join him for a meal. Dad pretended to really enjoy this concoction.  After tasting what was in front of them, the soldiers believed that he had to be alone. Before leaving, though, they proceeded to show off their new machine guns, right in the kitchen. Being in the attic, Theresia and I had no way of knowing what was happening, so we just held our breath and prayed, not knowing what was happening to Dad. Of course, we were all shaken by this harrowing experience. With deep gratitude to God, we comforted each other, appreciating the gift of each other even more.

To be continued.